My father chose to heat our house with a wood stove in the basement, rather than the conventional American heating method. I know — you and everyone else thinks I was Amish growing up. Other than the belief system part of it, you wouldn't be that far off. Using a wood stove, however, meant that every summer my family spent a lot of time down by our shed chopping logs for the winter months. Man, the more I type this and start throwing out phrases like "winter months", the more I'm starting to think we really were Amish.
People often imagine The Office when I talk about my workplace. My company is much bigger, but I can understand why everyone's imaginations go there. Most of my stories I bring to the outside world revolve around just my department, which has often acted like they belong on that show. I have a few different stories I could share, so maybe I'll save a couple for another time, but today — I'd like us to focus on my personal fave.
Yesterday, my mom brought me all my old notebooks from college to help clear some space in their basement. Most of them are just full of notes and homework assignments, but there is one notebook I'd like to keep for sure. It's the notebook I first started recording memories in. I have 51 recorded memories in it, some filling only a few lines, some multiple pages.
I realized last night that I've never been much of a "friend-maker." Instead, I'm more of a besties-maker. Throughout the different seasons of my whole life, I've had a smattering of a few different friends but almost always one very close friend who I'd spend most of my social time with (read, like 97%). In fact, even when it came to the few smattering of other friendships, I actually had a habit of thinking them more like acquaintances.
I had a plan form almost immediately after learning that I was pregnant. The following night was my husband's and my date night, and I decided to wait until then to tell him. I know, I know - millennials, amiright? But I wanted to surprise him in a sweet way — something he could hold on to, like a gift.
My husband and I weren't trying to get pregnant. We weren't opposed, but we had no intentions of doing so either. That was something that would happen at some point down the road....who knows when. No solid plans. I was at work when I found out.
My parents actually turned out to be much different people than I ever knew growing up. The parents I knew growing up were constantly — and I mean constantly — working. They had eight children together, and with that many kids I suppose it's difficult to get any free time.
First I'd like to say it wasn't my idea. A group of my friends were having a "sleepover" of sorts (do you still call it that when you're college age?) down in PA. The following day we'd all be starting our second year as counselors at the camp I've mentioned in one of my previous posts. The last time we'd seen each other the summer prior, one of these friends had had a thing going on with a guy who worked with us.
Can I share a secret with you? Before getting married to my husband, before I said yes to his proposal, before I even met him or started dating anyone at all — I had a fear that whatever marriage I entered into would fall apart. Today's prompt pertains to this subject: Share a time when you had a glimpse at what happy marriages years down the road can look like.
Did any of you ever think that the first person you dated would be the one you'd marry? And then how many of you are forever and always grateful he or she was NOT the person you stayed with? Raise of hands please. Oh, everyone? Welcome.